Heavensent
by StarsTilDawn
Summary: While bored, and with plenty of encouragement from Pansy, Blaise thoughtlessly writes a fake love letter to Millicent. But he has no idea just how much he will come to regret it...
1. Chapter 1

Pansy was bored. Blaise could tell because she was being even more of a bitch than normal. Besides, it was Arithmancy, first thing on a Monday morning, and no-one could survive Arithmancy with Professor Dun while awake. They were currently passing notes. Before Draco had disappeared, Pansy had never bothered speaking to him. Now, apparently, he was her new best friend.

_Let's write a list,_the note read. _Ten ugliest girls in our year._

_Before or after Granger left?_ he wrote back.

_After. And anyway, at least she's skinny._

_Millicent Bullstrode, _Blaise wrote, regretted it when he remembered that Millicent and Pansy were friends. Pansy didn't seem to mind, however.

_I know, isn't she__hideous__? If I looked like her, I'd just die. Especially if I was halfblood as well._

_I thought she was supposed to be your friend? _Blaise wrote back.

_God, don't remind me. More like geeky little tagalong, _Pansy replied. _Shall I tell you her most embarrassing secret?_

_Go on then,_ Blaise replied, making a mental note never to tell Pansy anything more personal than his shoe size.

_She's seventeen and she's never been kissed. How sad is that? _Pansy turned to him with the smug smirk of a girl who lost her virginity the day before she was legally old enough to do so.

_Really? _Blaise asked.

_Yup. She had a crush on you all last year, though._

Blaise wrote. The noise level in the room rose, and Blaise looked around, realising that the rest of the class were practicing a spell. "What are we supposed to be doing?"

Pansy shrugged. "Who cares?" She continued on her anti-Millicent rant. "Yeah, you should have seen her in our dorm! She was like-" Pansy pulled a hideous face and adopted a fake, high voice, messing with her hair. "Oh, do you think Blaise would prefer my hair like this?" She dropped her voice back to normal. "I was like, uh, _no_. You look hideous whatever you do."

Blaise doodled absentmindedly on his notes, an amusingly cruel idea forming in his head. "Hey, you know what would be really funny?"

"Buying her a hippo suit for Christmas?"

Blaise laughed, thinking it wasn't funny at all. "But what if I write her a really over the top letter, proclaiming my undying love, just to see what she does?"

Pansy's eyes lit up. She really was a bitch, Blaise thought. "Yeah! She'll go mad! Write it now."

Blaise looked around to see what Professor Dun was doing, but he couldn't see her anywhere. She had probably disappeared to get herself a cup of coffee: she usually only stopped droning on in lessons when she needed a caffeine hit. He got out a fresh piece of parchment. "OK, how should I start?"

"What about, Dearest Millicent," Pansy suggested.

Blaise wrote it down, trying to disguise his handwriting, and then continued, "I know, let's make it into a poem. Dearest Millicent, You are heaven-sent."

"Pure and innocent," Pansy continued.

"I think of you lying in my tent."

Pansy thought for a moment. "Your spots, your voice, your scent."

"I couldn't give you up for Lent." Blaise finished writing, thought for a minute and then wrote,_ With love from Your Secret Admirer _at the bottom "There," he said, admiring the letter.

"Add loads of kisses," Pansy suggested. Blaise did so, just as Professor Dun came back into the room carrying a mug. Blaise pulled his notes towards him, hoping that it would make him look as though he had done some work even though they were weeks old. Pansy must have slipped the letter in her bag, because Blaise forgot all about it until she sat next to him at breakfast two days later.

"Millicent loved your poem, you know," Pansy told him, spreading "Magically Lite!" spread on a slice of toast. "I don't think she's ever had a secret admirer before." Blaise felt a stab of annoyance: it was too early in the morning to be talked at. "Or any admirer at all, actually. I mean, who in their right mind would fancy her, honestly? Ugly, halfblood, completely lacking an interesting personality..." His stomach flooded with relief when he saw Millicent enter the hall. He thought that maybe he and Pansy had been a bit unfair on her: she did have terrible acne and a mane of unbrushed, frizzy hair, but there was something... intriguing about her features. She_ was _hideous, but she seemed to catch and hold his eye this morning, like a spider in a bathtub. He'd never really noticed her before, never looked properly... He blinked furiously to get rid of the idea. It was obviously too early in the morning.

"She's coming now," he told Pansy.

Pansy groaned. "Oh no, hide me!"

"Too late," Blaise said, as Millicent started walking down the length of the table.

"Hi, Pansy," Millicent said, sitting down opposite them and taking a slice of toast.

Pansy adopted an exaggerated, overwhelmingly fake smile. "Good _morning_, Millicent!" Millicent looked slightly unnerved.

"Hi, Millicent," Blaise said.

Millicent smiled at him. "Hi." She looked relieved that at least someone didn't seem to be making fun of her, and Blaise felt his insides twist with guilt. Blaise watched her spread "Magically Lite!" spread on her toast, and then take a bite. He got the impression Pansy was trying to catch his eye, and avoided looking her way. Bored, she picked up a paper someone had left on the seat beside her and scanned the headlines.

"Oh _dear_," she said loudly. "Millicent, have you heard from your father recently?"

"No," Millicent said, starting to look worried. "H-has anything happened?"

"Oh, he's not actually mentioned by name," Pansy said. "It's just that more mudbloods are being questioned by the Ministry, and being married to a witch can't be protection for long, can it?"

Millicent went pale. She swallowed her mouthful of toast slowly. "Ca-can I look at that, Pansy?"

"Of course," Pansy said graciously. She smirked as she passed the paper across the table. Blaise watched as Millicent's eyes moved down the page, the agony on her face growing. "I suppose the end justifies the means," Pansy continued. "Although it is unfortunate for those of us who are related to such... _people._" The delicate pause made it clear that Pansy barely considered muggles people. The expression on Millicent's face was murderous, and Blaise fully expected her to curse Pansy there and then. Maybe Pansy expected her to as well, because she got up and left, making a pointed comment about straightening her hair and putting concealer on a _huge _spot.

Blaise said he'd see her later, but Millicent didn't even seem to hear her. She was still reading the newspaper article, or perhaps re-reading it. Maybe she was just unable to take her eyes from it. Maybe she just didn't want to look at him. He searched desperately for something to say, but came up with nothing. He didn't even know which side he was on, and anyway, what was there to say? _Sorry, Millicent, that the people who hold views I have always agreed with, unquestioningly, want to imprison your dad, torture him, and maybe even kill him?_ It was a relief when the bell rang and he could leave her there, with a goodbye she didn't even seem to hear, and go to Potions.

A/N: Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

The first Saturday of November should have, been the first Quidditch match of the season, but it was cancelled. Not just the match, the entire tournament. Under normal circumstances, Blaise would play chaser. Instead, the cup hung meaninglessly in the Slytherin Common Room, prompting claims of unfair bias from every other house. Blaise stared at it wistfully, imagining the smooth leather of the Quaffle in his hands, the wind in his hair, the cheering of the crowd far below him. For some reason, he couldn't quite shake Millicent from his mind, and he thought Quidditch would have helped.

"Snap!" Crabbe shouted dully, shattering Blaise's thoughts. Out of desperation, he was trying to teach Crabbe and Goyle how to play Snap. He looked down at the cards: a king, a jack and an eight. How could _anyone_ fail to understand the rules of Snap, he wondered.

"No," he said, speaking slowly and carefully. "You only say snap when two cards are the _same_."

"Uh?" Crabbe looked back at the cards, confused. "But they are the same. Look." He pointed at the king and the jack.

"No, this one's a king, and this one's a jack. See, it has a little "K" in the corner..." Crabbe scrunched up his eyes and scrutinised the cards. "Never mind," Blaise said, giving up.

"Hey, you look like you need a drink," Pansy said, sliding into the seat next to him. Daphne Greengrass sat down next to her. "Look what I managed to get from the kitchen!" She showed him a flash of a bottle of firewhiskey, hidden in her schoolbag. "Seeing as we won't be getting many Post-Match parties this year."

"Or any at all," Blaise agreed.

"But we can't drink it here," Daphne said. "I heard Snape's not too keen on students with alcohol. Did you hear what happened to that Hufflepuff kid the other day?"

"_We're_ OK," Pansy said. "We're pureblood. Millicent, on the other hand..."

"Isn't here, thank Merlin," said Daphne. "C'mon, let's go."

"Where is Millicent, anyway?" Blaise asked, on the way out of the common room.

"Don't know, don't care," Pansy said dismissively. They walked up several flights of stairs, heading for a caved in passageway that Draco had discovered the year before and no-one else knew about. It was hidden behind a mirror on the Fourth Floor, in a corridor where very few people ever went. The three of then checked that no-one was around, and then slipped in through the mirror.

"Wouldn't it be cool if the passageway wasn't caved in, and it actually went somewhere?" Blaise said. "We could be sitting in The Three Broomsticks right now."

"Hey, d'you that there are more?" Daphne asked.

"Nah, Draco would have found them all last year," Pansy said confidently. "He was desperate to find somewhere secret, remember?" She twisted the lid off the bottle of firewhiskey, and they drank it straight from the bottle, sitting on cushions they had brought down the year before. After a while Daphne left, saying she'd promised to lend Goyle some owl treats.

"Why does Goyle need owl treats?" Blaise asked when she'd left. "He doesn't even have an owl."

"Does it matter?" Pansy asked. "I guess that makes it just the two of us..."

"Yeah," said Blaise. "I suppose it does."

She smiled at him like he was a rather dim child. "More firewhiskey?"

An hour later, the bottle of Firewhiskey was almost empty. Blaise took a last sip, and then stared at it in dismay. "Now what am I supposed to drink?"

Pansy laughed drunkenly. "You know what I want? Some music. Blaise, don't you feel like dancing?" She was slurring her words, and leaning in closer. Blaise began to see that she was pretty: poker straight dark hair with blonde highlights, framing a perfectly symmetrical heart-shaped face, just tall enough, with a skinny waist and big boobs. Odd, really, that he'd never noticed it before.

"D'you ever miss Draco?" he asked. "Or do you think you can do better, now he's out of the way?"

"Oh, I don't think I can do better," Pansy said. "I _know_ I can." She laughed, and touched his arm. "I suppose if the firewhiskey's run out, we'll have to find other ways to have fun," she purred, soft and seductive. "Any ideas, Blaise?"

"This," he said, and kissed her. The thought that he'd regret this in the morning crossed his mind vaguely, looking for something to connect to. Her lips tasted fruity and artificial, and as his tongue moved into her mouth he caught the hot tang of firewhiskey. His hands moved up her lithe back, entwined in her hair. And that was when he realised something was wrong: he didn't want her. His stomach heaved, protesting about the firewhiskey. He pulled away and turned his head away, a sudden realisation striking him. He was kissing the wrong girl

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Blaise didn't rise from his hangover until what was optimistically called "lunchtime" by the school staff. Entering the Great Hall, he scanned the tables for someone he wanted to sit with, and decided that there was no-one he could face- it was a choice between Pansy and Daphne, or Theodore Nott. He had a feeling something had happened between him and Pansy the night before, but he couldn't quite remember what and didn't want to discuss it particularly. He couldn't sit on his own, though, so he made a split second decision to go for Pansy. Nott had an incredibly unnerving way of making you feel like he was making fun of you, without you ever quite working out why.

Pansy smiled at him widely as he came up to her. "Hi, Blaise," she said, sliding closer to him.

"How can you be so cheerful?" he asked. "I didn't drink _that_ much more than you, did I?" He moved slightly further away from her, on the pretence of reaching a dish of sausages.

"Always drink a glass of water before going to sleep," she said brightly. She was beginning to give Blaise a headache, or rather, to bring back the one which had begun to fade. "Although I suppose you weren't in much of a state to drink water. I just about had to carry you back to the common room!"

"I seem to have forgotten that bit," Blaise said. "Actually, I don't think I remember anything at all after Daphne left."

"Nothing?" Pansy asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Nothing," he said firmly. "And anything I might have done was probably a drunken mistake."

"How do you know if you don't remember it?"

Blaise tried to force his mind to come up with a reply which wasn't an obvious insult, when Millicent sat down opposite him. Daphne seemed relieved, and Blaise realised that she was treating him and Pansy almost as though they were now an item.

"Look, if I came on to you or anything, I was really drunk, OK?" he told Pansy.

She looked offended for a split second, then smiled breezily. "Of course," she said, like she'd known that all along. But she turned away from him, and addressed her next words to Daphne and Millicent. "Hogsmeade trip next Saturday," she said, ignoring Blaise pointedly. "Can I go with you two?"

They both nodded and agreed, and then Daphne turned to Blaise. "What about you?"

Blaise glanced at Millicent out of the corner of his eye, without even noticing he was doing it, and said, "Sounds great."

"-So then he bought me ice cream anyway!" Millicent said.

Blaise laughed. "Your brother sounds alright. I wish I could have a conversation with my sister that didn't end up with us trying to curse each other." They entered The Three Broomsticks, walking a few paces behind Pansy and Daphne. They had spent almost the entire Hogsmeade visit talking. Pansy shot the two of them another venomous glance. For someone who under a year ago couldn't go five minutes without either snogging the face off Draco Malfoy or loudly proclaiming her everlasting love for him, she seemed to have forgotten about him remarkably quickly. The four of them got butterbeers and pushed through the crowded pub to the only empty table.

"Well, you two seem to be pretty cosy together," Pansy said.

Millicent blushed, and Blaise automatically said, "No we aren't." Then he noticed the expression on Pansy's face. It said that this wasn't going to be happily ever after.

"Oh, really?" she said, smiling. Pansy had a smile for every occasion, very few of them friendly. This one was her cat-that's-trapped-a-mouse-in-a-corner smile, and Blaise didn't like it. "I suppose that means you haven't sent Millicent another letter, then?"

"That was _you_?" Millicent asked.

Blaise tried to pull his face into an innocently confused expression. "Letter?"

"Oh, but surely you remember, Blaise?" Pansy continued innocently. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, we were bored, we wrote a list..."

Millicent looked at him, her face glowing. Blaise felt sick. "That was the nicest thing anyone's written for me."

"Blaise enjoyed writing it too, didn't you?" The smile on Pansy's face widened. "He thought is was _hilarious_." Millicent looked confused, so Pansy continued. "Surely you didn't think anyone could_mean_ a letter like that, written to a hippopotamus like you?"

"Pansy!" Daphne gasped.

Millicent was no longer smiling. She looked from Pansy(who looked delighted) to Blaise, and back again, trying to work out if it was true. Blaise couldn't quite force the guilt off his face. There was a split-second pause, although it felt like aeons. Then Millicent blinked a few times, maybe to keep back tears and said, with almost perfect composure, "Fine." Only the slight quiver in her voice at the end of the word gave away her real feelings. She got up quickly and pushed her way out of the pub before Blaise had even registered the words. Daphne sighed, rolled her eyes and went after her, shocking Blaise out of his trance.

"Pansy! What'd you tell her about that for?"

"Someone needed to stop you making a fool of yourself," she said.

"I was_not_ making a fool of myself!"

"Yes you were! Sucking up to her like that, just because you feel guilty!"

Blaise glared at her, and then realised that she wasn't the person he needed to talk to. He stood up.

"Hey! You can't leave me here on my own!" Pansy said.

"Watch me," Blaise said furiously, turning his back on her and headed towards the door. Pansy got up and ran after him.

"Where are you going?"

"More to the point, why are you following me? I have nothing to say to you."

Pansy didn't answer, but she did follow him all the way back to the castle. Blaise refused to speak to her. He just walked faster, but she kept up easily. They walked past the lake, which looked cold and empty. Blaise tried not to see it as a metaphor.

Finally they reached the common room. It was deserted except for a few first and second years who were obviously too young to visit Hogsmeade, and there was no sign of Millicent or Daphne. Blaise supposed he hadn't really expected to find them so easily, but he was still disappointed. He turned and headed back out of the portrait hole.

"Where are you going now?" Pansy asked.

Blaise ignored her.

"I'm coming too," she added decisively.

"Can't you take a hint?" he snapped.

Pansy stopped in the middle of the common room, looking dejected. "But I don't wanna be left here on my own!" she whined.

Blaise ignored her and continued walking with no particular idea of where he was going. He had resolved never to speak to Pansy again. When he reached the First Floor, he decided that he would look for Millicent in the library. As he walked, he mentally planned what he would say to her. If he just apologised, surely she'd forgive him. And anyway, he was a better person now. People can change a lot in a week and a half, can't they?

Although he searched the entire castle, he didn't find Millicent until he walked into the Great Hall for dinner. She was sitting on her own at the far end of the table, in a little zone of isolation. Blaise walked towards her, passing Pansy and Daphne on the way, and took the seat opposite. She ignored him completely and continued to eat, staring blankly at nothing.

"Hi Millicent," Blaise said. "I just wanted to say, I am so, so sorry about what happened earlier."

Her eyes pulled away from the spot on the horizon to focus on his face. "Really? And is that supposed to make any difference to me whatsoever?"

"Well-"

"Because, it doesn't, you know."

This wasn't going how he'd hoped at all. Where was the joyful reconciliation, leading up to the kiss? "That letter I sent, it was really stupid. But if it made me realise what you mean to me, how can it be a bad thing?" Ew. Had he really just said that?

She glared at him and stood up. "I'm not just going to sit here and let you use me to assuage your guilt."

"But you haven't finished eating!" She still had almost a full plate of shepherds pie, and a pile of peas and carrots beside it.

"Oh, I'm sure you can all agree that a _rhinoceros_ like me doesn't need it." She walked off, leaving Blaise staring at her retreating back. He glanced around and realised that now he was the one surrounded by empty seats. And for a split second, he almost didn't care.

_ A/N: So, if anyone's still reading, please review and tell me why! (even if it's just because I've hilariously overused commas or something)_


	3. Chapter 3

Blaise tried talking to Millicent again several times, and each time she continued to ignore him. A week later, Daphne told him that Millicent's father had been arrested.

"Is she OK?" Blaise asked.

"No, she seems pretty upset. Pansy isn't exactly helping."

"She wouldn't," Blaise said. He still wasn't speaking to Pansy. It was the longest he'd ever stuck to anything in his life. "Where is she?"

"Pansy?"

"Why would I want to find Pansy?" Blaise asked. "Millicent."

"Oh. I don't know. I don't think she really wants to speak to anyone."

"Well, I'm going to go and find her," Blaise said. This was his perfect chance to make it up to her. He'd find Millicent in her hour of need, comfort her and cheer her up. She'd have to forgive him then. Then he realised he had no idea where to look. "Where would she go?"

Daphne shrugged, and then spotted Pansy coming down from their dorm. "See you later, OK?"

"Yeah, see you." Blaise said. He felt a bit lost, knowing what an idiot he must look standing there on his own. He decided that now was the perfect opportunity to get started on his Transfiguration homework, so he got his bag and headed to the library. The portraits whispered secretively as he passed, until he wanted to hex them all to shreds.

When he got there, he glanced around the tables for somewhere to sit, hopefully not on his own. His eye was caught by a mane of frizzy hair in the far corner, hunched alone at a desk, and his mood suddenly improved. He strode across the library.

"Millicent!"

She looked up, startled, then went back to her work.

"I was really sorry to hear about your father," he said. "If there's anything I can do..."

"Yes. You can leave me alone." She said it so abruptly that Blaise just stood there for a few seconds, trying to work out a response. She didn't even look up, instead continuing to write furiously. Blaise read the title. It was an essay they were supposed to do for Muggle Studies. Blaise hadn't done any of his homework for either of the Carrows, and he'd gotten away with it. He realised Millicent, as a halfblood, probably didn't have that luxury, and felt a stab of guilt.

"Zabini, I don't need you watching me. And you're attracting attention," she said without looking up. Blaise looked around, realising she was right. A group of sixth year Slytherins were watching them closely, probably because he was talking to a halfblood. Blaise hastily left, telling himself that there was no point in staying. There probably wasn't, but really he was scared. He did his work on his own, although he couldn't stop himself from glancing at Millicent every so often.

The year dragged on. Blaise made up with Pansy again, sacrificing all integrity because there was no one else to talk to. Christmas came and went, joylessly. Although he resolved to forget about Millicent (telling himself she was ugly, she was halfblood, and nobody liked her), he kept replaying in his mind the one time they'd had a conversation, that time in Hogsmeade. If only Pansy hadn't told her about the letter, if only he hadn't written it, she'd still be speaking to him. Maybe the two of them could ride out the hostile stares and whispers together...

The NEWTs loomed closer and closer, and more and more work was piled on them. Outside the school, there were rumours of deaths and disappearances which were never reported in the _Daily Prophet_. Inside the school was a sort of police state- a mini version of the society outside. There were no muggles left, and the number of halfbloods left at Hogwarts decreased almost daily, as did their rights. Millicent stayed, though. Maybe she had nowhere else to go. Blaise didn't dare ask her- he wasn't going to draw attention to himself. Especially when she wouldn't talk to him anyway.

One morning, Blaise came down to find a chattering crowd around the notice board, for the first time since his fifth year. Hardly anyone ever looked at it, because normally there was nothing to look at. Usually, it was just the date of the next Gobstones Club, followed by a list of joke names (apparently Gellert Grindelwald was a regular). He wandered over to see what was so interesting, and read the notice:

_By decree of the Ministry of Magic, the following students will be required to present proof of pure blood status before sitting examinations. Failure to do so will result in withdrawal from all examinations._

A list of names followed. Blaise scanned it, and was relieved to see that his name wasn't there. Then again, why would it be? He was pureblood, and the school knew that he was. The names on the list were all halfbloods and muggleborns. He felt a jab in his chest to see Millicent's. None of those people would be able to provide the requested proof. They wouldn't be able to take exams, and worse still, whoever had posted the notice knew so. That was the point. He envied the people around him, still able to hold onto their thoughtless prejudices.

"Why are they even giving them a chance to prove themselves?"

"Finally, they're doing something about them."

"Father's been saying for years that the Ministry was too lenient."

He couldn't hear a single word speaking for the students whose lives would be crashing down around them. Seven years of studying, wasted. Blaise wasn't stupid enough to be the first to complain. Needless martyrdom is for Gryffindors and morons (the two often go together). It wasn't his problem, he decided.

He saw Pansy and Daphne coming down the stairs from the dorm and went to meet them.

"Hi, Blaise. What's all that about?" Daphne asked.

"Not much," he found himself replying. "Just that some people won't be taking exams this year. Halfbloods."

"And good riddance," Pansy said. Blaise didn't reply. However bad he suddenly felt about the whole thing, _it wasn't his problem_, he kept telling himself. Anyway, there was nothing he could do.

Maybe he would have gone on like that for the rest of his life, but then, finally, something _happened_. Not that stuff hadn't been happening all year, obviously, but this was the event that woke Blaise up from his unquestioning complacency, fear crystallising events into cold, hard reality.

A/N: Sorry it's taken a while to update. I've found this chapter really difficult to write, and I'm still not sure about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaise was sitting on a clumsy yellow tricycle, chasing a blackbird down a winding path. It flew far too fast, seemingly without effort. He peddled harder, but the tricycle was too slow and cumbersome. He _had_ to catch that blackbird.

"Get up! Everybody get up!" someone began to shout. Blaise realised that his only chance was to stand up and run. He struggled helplessly, but he was stuck to the seat. And then someone drew back the curtains, and he was back in reality.

"Zabini, you might want to drag yourself out of bed a little early today," a voice drawled.

"Get lost," Blaise mumbled vaguely. He was still wondering where the tricycle had gone.

"Are you sure that you want me to do that, Zabini? Bearing in mind that any minute now the castle might be overrun with death eaters?"

Blaise pulled himself into a sitting position, suddenly noticed the screams coming from the common room and the panicked footsteps on the staircase outside the dorm. "What?"

"I don't have a clue. Apparently they'll tell us in the Great Hall." Nott grabbed his wand from his bedside table and left. Blaise looked around and realised he was on his own. Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared, and Blaise didn't have to think to hard to work out who's side they'd be on. Hurriedly he dragged on his robes over his pyjamas, and ran down the stairs. He joined a panicking stampede of other students as scared as he was, all pushing towards the Great Hall. The crush left him no space or time to think, and it wasn't until he got there that he realised he'd left his wand behind. He felt sick, helpless without it. There wouldn't be time to go back now.

The hall was packed, and the chatter of students was deafening. Almost everyone looked scared. He pushed his way to the Slytherin table and squeezed in beside Daphne and Pansy.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"You-Know-Who's in the forest, apparently," Daphne said.

A first year sitting across from them interjected, terrified. "I thought it was just 'cos Snape's disappeared!"

"They wouldn't wake us up in the middle of the night for that. I heard someone had been kidnapped by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," someone else said.

"Or murdered."

"Bet the Mudbloods who stayed are regretting it now." Pansy smirked.

"As some of you may already have been told, the Castle is besieged by Lord V-Voldemort and his followers," she began. On hearing the name, some students looked around, terrified, as if expecting him to step into the Hall there and then. "There is no need to panic. If we all stay calm, the castle can be evacuated safely and efficiently. The evacuation will be overseen by Mr Filch and Madam Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give the word, you will organise your house and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point."

A Hufflepuff stood up. "And what if we want to stay and fight?"

Some people clapped, but most, Blaise included, looked shocked by the very idea.

"Show off," Pansy muttered beside him.

"If you are of age, you may stay," McGonagall said.

Another student, this time from the Ravenclaw table, stood up and asked about her owl and her trunk.

"We have no time to collect possessions."

"But we have time to sit and listen to this crap?" someone muttered. Blaise glanced at the door again, half expecting You-Know-Who to burst in.

"Where's Professor Snape?" Daphne's sister, Astoria, got up and shouted.

"He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk," replied McGonagall. Most of the Hall applauded. _Uh, hello, we're all going to die in a minute, and you're applauding?_ Blaise thought. He didn't say it, though. This was taking long enough as it was.

"Oh look, it's St. Potter and Co., returned to save us all. How delightful," a Slytherin muttered a few seats down, his voice oozing sarcasm. Blaise turned towards the door, and sure enough, Potter was striding through the Hall confidently.

McGonagall continued, although her audience was now distracted. "We have already placed protection around the castle, but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects-"

But she was cut off by the most terrifying voice Blaise had ever heard. It came from all around him, from the walls, the tables, the great ceiling, the air itself, as though even deafness would be no escape. "I know that you are preparing to fight," the voice stated, so cold and clear that a shiver ran down Blaise's spine. Several students screamed, before a terrible silence settled on the hall. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded." The voice, which Blaise realised could only be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, paused for a brief second. "You have until midnight."

The silence fell back onto the hall like a heavy blanket, smothering every emotion but fear. Pansy was the one to break it.

"But he's there! Potter's _there_! Someone grab him!" she shouted shrilly. Blaise privately agreed, but the entire hall stood, almost as one, and faced her, drawing their wands. A few of the Slytherins drew their wands too, but before the fight could break out McGonagall spoke.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson. You will leave the Hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your house could follow."

Pansy glared at her, but there were too many to fight. She turned on her heel and walked out, and the rest of the Slytherin table followed. Filch lead them towards the stairs, refusing to answer any questions about where they were headed. Blaise kept close to the centre of the jostling crowd, which was far from easy as everyone else was trying to do the same. They followed close behind Filch as he started to walk up the staircase. All but two figures, who were sneaking off in the opposite direction, towards the dungeons. Idiots. No-one else appeared to have seen them, and Blaise wasn't going to do anything about it. It was none of his business if they wanted to get themselves killed, he thought. Then he recognised them. It was Nott and Millicent.

The few seconds of shock were enough for Blaise to be shoved to the edge of the crowd. He stopped walking, weighing up his options. No-one even seemed to notice him slip behind. In a few seconds they would be gone, and the choice would be taken from him. If he didn't follow Millicent, would he regret it for the rest of his life? On the other hand, if he did follow her, the rest of his life probably wouldn't be very long at all. Just as the last Slytherin disappeared around the corner, he made up his mind and sprinted after up the stairs, only to discover an empty corridor. Ah.

He spun around to see if he'd mistaken the direction they'd taken, but the entire corridor was deserted. They'd left, probably through some secret passage only Gryffindors were allowed to know about. He was alone. He was panicking. He didn't have a wand. He was going to have to follow Millicent and Nott anyway. He sprinted back down the stairs, towards the common room and the dungeons. At least this way he'd be armed.

"Hey! Where are you going?" he demanded. "We need to get out of here!"

"Zabini," Nott smiled patronisingly. "You'll get yourself killed."

"_You'll _get yourself killed! What do you think you're doing, sneaking off like that?"

"Sneaking off like _this_," Nott corrected.

"What?" Blaise asked, confused.

"Present tense, Zabini."

His tone was so annoyingly patronising that Blaise found himself reaching for his wand, only to remember he'd left it by his bed.

"We're fighting You-Know-Who," Millicent said. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Now Blaise was confused. "So why didn't you stay in the Great Hall?"

"I'm not doing _anything_ that Potter says," Nott said. "And anyway, Slughorn has a huge box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in his office, and I'm borrowing it."

"And you?" he asked Millicent.

She smiled sheepishly. "I forgot my wand."

A few minutes later, when Millicent and Blaise had found their wands and Nott had returned with a huge box of Instant Darkness Powder, the three of them started walking out of the dungeons towards the Entrance Hall. Blaise was thinking that if he stuck with them, then maybe, just maybe, he could sneak out in the confusion of the battle.

"Hey, do you think that there are other ways out, apart from the proper entrance? How will the evacuees escape?" he asked, trying to sound casual. It didn't work.

"I don't know," Millicent said.

"Why, Zabini, are you chickening out?" Nott added.

"_No_. Of course not. I'm just wondering."

"Zabini, why are you still here?" Nott asked. "I find it hard to believe that you're risking you're life for the good of mankind. Or for anything, actually."

Blaise decided that if he was going to get killed anyway, he might as well play the hero. "I've realised that there are some things worth fighting for, some things more important than the life of the individual," he said grandly.

Millicent smiled at him, her face lighting up completely. "I knew that we wouldn't be the only two Slytherins to fight." Nott just raised his eyebrows cynically.

They fell silent as they got closer to the Great Hall and sounds of the fight began to reach them. Shouted curses and screams of pain, with the crash of smashing masonry. Blaise wanted to run away, but he seemed to have lost all control of his legs entirely. They had become lumps of jelly that continued to move, independent of his brain.

Then, far too soon, they entered the Great Hall. It was dark, and the scattered figures were only illuminated by the flashes of light sent by the curses flying everywhere. There was no way these people knew who they were attacking, and no way that Blaise could sneak out unharmed. He managed to find enough strength in his legs to begin to back away, when one of the flashes of light missed it's target and shot towards him. He tried to duck, but there wasn't time. His shoulder filled with the most agonising pain he'd ever felt, and then he was falling, falling, falling... Blackness.

A/N: Second last chapter! It's probably sort of cheating to have Blaise knocked out before the actual battle, but I didn't think I could make him fight. He's too much of a coward. Also, an absolutely huge chunk in the middle of this was basically rewording something JKR already wrote, which was kinda... weird. Not sure I did that too well. Anyway, enough rambling. Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Everything was black, and something hurt. For a few brief seconds Blaise wondered if he was dead. A faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air, and he heard groans of pain on his left side. He wrenched open his eyes and the view changed to dazzling white.

Summoning up all his strength, he managed to turn his head. Either side of his bed there were curtains, drawn shut. He was in the hospital wing. Which meant he must be sick. Suddenly, it all came flooding back: the castle being attacked, terror, following Millicent, the Entrance Hall filled with silhouettes and spells... He groaned. Why had he been so stupid? He felt terrible. His shoulder hurt more than anything he'd ever felt. Someone drew back the curtains.

"Good, you're awake." It was Madam Pomfrey. Briskly, she took his temperature, pulse and blood pressure with a quick spell. "Right, you seem just about ready to leave."

Blaise moved his head to look at her, gasping with pain in the process. "I feel terrible," he groaned.

"Normally I _would_ keep you in another day or so, but we're rather short of beds. You're one of the lucky ones. Why anyone thought of having a battle in a _school_, of all places, is beyond me."

Blaise didn't feel very lucky. He must have looked unhappy with her decision, because her expression softened slightly. "Here, drink this first." She handed him a vial of a green liquid. Blaise forced it down it's throat. It burnt his throat horribly, but as soon as it reached his stomach a cool feeling began to spread outwards, seeming to wash away some of the feeling in his stomach. As the agony receded, his other thoughts swam into a clearer focus. Who had won? Who had died? Was Millicent OK? He felt a sharp pang of guilt and fear: he'd meant to _protect_ her. And what about Crabbe? Goyle? Nott? Pansy, of course, would be fine. She was smart and selfish enough to wriggle out of anything. But Millicent might have ended up right in the middle of the fight...

He handed the vial back to Madam Pomfrey, and drew a deep, calming breath. He'd start with the easy question. "Madam Pomfrey, can you tell me who won?"

She smiled for the first time. "We did. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone."

"And... people died?"

"Yes. We haven't even finished identifying the bodies yet. But if there's anyone in particular you want to know about, I can tell you if they're here." She smiled sympathetically.

"Ummm..." Blaise paused. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know. What if she was dead? But curiousity, or hope, won. "Is Millicent Bulstode here?"

Madam Pomfrey checked down her list. Blaise watched her anxiously, becoming more and more certain that she would look up and tell him she had died. "Yes. She was taken in a few hours ago."

His heart leapt. "Can I see her? Please?"

"She needs rest," Madam Pomfrey said. "I'm sure that when she wakes up, she'll come and find you."

"Please. It's really important." Madam Pomfey hesitated. Blaise threw dignity to the winds and begged. "Please? I still need to apologise for something. I won't upset her, I promise. I'll be really quiet if she's asleep." Please, please, please, he chanted in his head as she thought about it. Another anxious pause.

"Well... maybe a few minutes won't hurt. I suppose this is rather an... unusual day. She's in bed fifty-three."

"Thank you," Blaise said. Maybe it was the effect of the potion, but he suddenly felt much better.

Madam Pomfrey strode away, pausing briefly to add, "Now, if your shoulder changes colour, come and get it treated. And don't wake her!" Then she was gone.

Blaise pulled himself upright with only a minor twinge from his shoulder, and stood upright. His shoulder began to throb weakly as he walked down the ward, glancing at the numbers on the curtains around the beds. Finally he reached fifty, then fifty-two, and then- his heart gave an involuntary leap- fifty-three! Blaise took a deep breath and pushed the curtains aside.

Millicent was lying in the bed, very still, with her eyes shut. She was very pale. Deathly pale.

"Millicent?" Blaise whispered. No reply. He took her wrist and felt for a pulse. To his relief, he found one. Still she didn't move.

Blaise had promised not to wake her, but he hadn't promised not to wait for her to wake of her own accord. So he sat down on the chair by her and waited. Her chest rose and fell, slowly and rhythmically. It was quite boring, actually.

Blaise began to consider giving up. Someone might be wondering about him. Then, suddenly and to his great relief, her eyes fluttered open. She looked dazed and afraid.

"Millicent, it's OK," Blaise said reassuringly.

Her eyes became even more afraid. Then, slowly they focused on him. "What are you doing here? Did I survive?"

"I-I just came to see if you were OK. And yes, you're alive."

"Did you check on anyone else?"

"No."

"So why me?" she asked suspiciously.

Blaise realised this was his chance. "Millicent, I really like you. I have for a while. When I thought that you might be hurt, I was so so scared." Millicent didn't say anything, so he continued, beginning to babble. " And also, I'm really, really sorry about the letter I wrote to you. It was quite possibly- probably even definitely- the most stupid thing I've ever done. Ever."

"So who won?"

"What?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "The _Battle_? The one that both of us could have been killed in, only a few hours ago? Remember it?"

"Oh! We did. Our side, I mean. You-Know-Who's dead."

Millicent's face flooded with happiness in exactly the same way Madam Pomfrey's had. It made Blaise feel incredibly selfish, yet incredibly happy. "Then today, I think I could forgive anything," she said.

THE END

_A/N: Please review! Is this a good enough ending? Satisfying, believable, etc.? Or one of those "I wasted hours of my life just to get to _this?!"_ endings? Constructive criticism appreciated!_


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